


Baise-Moi Puis S'excuser

by jattendrai



Category: Super Smash Bros - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 15:54:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4485667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jattendrai/pseuds/jattendrai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a while since they went on a date together</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baise-Moi Puis S'excuser

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote like 3/4th of this at 4 am and skimmed read it so i apologize in advanced  
> ( also this is probably based in like the 20th century somewhere like who play The Breeders anymore )

Pittoo came to the front of the large building, cars parked recklessly all over the lot, more flooding in from the entryway of the highway in chaos. He had walked twenty blocks from his house for he refused getting a ride from his brother Pit, who would’ve probably embarrassed them both without even needing to get out of the car. Besides, he liked the peace and quiet. 

The front of the hulking school looked to him like the beginning of those cliche movies; lights pouring out from the doors and onto loaners and waiters outside, some smoking cigarettes and others making out while thinking nobody can see them; rowdy boys coming in on bikes and ditching them on the wet grass two feet from the rack; streamers and other decorations in the school’s colors hanging about the pillars and doors like it’s a fucking middle school dance.

It was a prom, and his date was suppose to be here by now. He did eventually show, after Pittoo spent at least twenty minutes pacing the outside and making odd gestures at the others who lingered. His date -- Lucas -- came out of a clunky Oldsmobile that sagged in the back and scraped on it’s way out, obviously not any relative driving for he did some sort of pommel-leap over of the top and slid down the side. Neither of them dressed up all that well; button-up shirts poorly tucked into some weird fabric pants they’d never wear again; Lucas wore his dumb-looking sneakers with all the Sharpie drawings up the side he made in class, while Pittoo had some sense to wear those clunky shoes you’d usually wear to weddings and such. Classy.

Lucas waves, Pittoo crosses his arms, and they enter the large building. Neither of them told their parents they were going with each other and that admission was ten bucks cheaper with a date, so after they got their wrist passes and paid the find they ran to the closest vending machines, not even caring about the actual party, and getting as many snacks and treats they could get before shuffling off to an empty room full of chairs and tables. Pittoo brought a deck of cards and they played Twenty-One -- y’know, the game they were taught in middle school to make them count in their head and not with their hands, yet Pittoo could still see Lucas count his fingers under the table -- and sometimes loners would sneak in and they’d play a few with them. Even then everybody eventually got bored and swung back to the dance-floor with their date or some close friend, but not them -- they just kept playing their cheap card games and talking bullshit; family, friends, video games; it was just like how they always hung out, except this time they were more finely dressed and music scotched their hearing. Pittoo could hear The Breeders play at a soothing billion decibels from the floor, and he remembered how Lucas had some weird crush on the singer for all of Eighth Grade and wouldn’t shut up about his music.

The DJ began calling out the end of the night, and every stray and loner and even those who were just hear to sit in the bathroom and get high crawled out and onto the dance-floor, but the two just continued attempts at throwing Skittles at each other and stacking the metal chairs into the highest thrones they could manage. Lucas talked about how the traffic was probably going to get bad so they should leave before the night ends, so they un-stacked their thrones and gathered up all the wrappers and missed Skittles, throwing them away in the garbage cans as they walked passed the now dying-down crowd, and headed out to to the doors.

It was cool and wet outside. Dim lights lit up the parking lot and reflected the puddles all around. Neither of them had a ride to get back home. “ Let’s go get something to eat,” Lucas suggested even though they practically took in their weight of Skittles, M&Ms, and flat soda. A pathetic looking diner sat across the highway from them and they ran off to it.The diner was small and gross and somehow they managed to wedge themselves into the smallest booth they could find, in the brightest corner with a window that overlooked the school. All Pittoo got was a rather large cup of coffee while Lucas got a breakfast meal -- because y’know it’s probably past midnight so you got to have breakfast to start out the day -- and they sat there like children, playing footsie under the table, laughing too loudly ( at least Lucas was ), probably making a good show for all the drunks and homeless people who were just trying to get some shuteye on the rather comfortable seats.

After they finished their meal they began to head to Lucas’ apartment complex since it was closer, and Pittoo was probably already in trouble for staying out later than he promised. The small community block Lucas lived on was comfortable-looking; children’s chalk drawings all over the sidewalks, potted plants sitting upon steps and porches being illuminated by dull yellow street lamps, the distant sound of voices and music being played in one of the many apartment rooms with the lit-up windows. Some people lingered on the steps of their own apartments, waving at Lucas or calling out something in a language Pittoo didn’t understand.

They ended up climbing the fire escape to his fifth-story apartment building balcony, not really wanting to go in and call it a night but not wanting to wander the town and do anything; instead they just sat there in some reclining beach chairs that were propped up on the side, rewinding the night in their heads; everything felt a bit weird to them. They’ve never exactly gone on a date before, someone has always tagged along or met up with them and made it some three-person chug-along, or something came up that caused the other to be busy, so they’ve never really learned how to go about the end of the night. In the distance the ominous party music had changed from swing to some exciting and incoherent dance music, but it didn’t help much with the post kinda-date anxiety.

“ Wait, I have an idea,” Lucas sprang up and into the apartment, and in a flash returned with a strange-looking glass container and a Coke.

“ Alcohol?”

“ Only the best for you,” He did a small curtsy at the door.

“ I’m not getting drunk on your dirty balcony.”

“ Then you can drink the soda,” He tossed it to Pittoo and reclined in the rainbow-styled chair, “ I’ll drink this all by myself.”

“ What even is that?”

“ Cognac.” He pulled off the broken seal and Pittoo could immediately smell what could be a mixture of burnt wood and vanilla.

“Expensive shit.”

There he took a quick swig, “ Hmph...Good, too. Sure you don’t want some?”

The offer was tempting, but if he awoken with his face in a potted plant the next morning he was sure to never trust his boyfriend with drinks ever again. 

He took the bottle from Lucas’ hands and looked at it; it was an ugly brown and orange smeared together, and it really really reeked of the holiday festivities, as if the entire thing was just a liquefied and fermented Christmas tree. Quickly he tried taking the smallest swig of it and handed it back to Lucas -- his mouth was overcame with an acidic taste reaching the back of his throat, with the passing taste of ‘floral’ and something else, numbing his mouth - That Coke he was given sounded wonderful at the moment; Pittoo didn’t know if he had ingested alcohol or if he was having acid reflux.

“ Are you okay?” Lucas giggled as Pittoo downed the soda.

“ That was gross,”

 

They sat there in there creased clothes and watched as the cars passed, lights went out in the windows to signal some stranger’s flee to bed, voices came and went in the shadows of the allies. Pittoo was finally able to stomach the Cognac ( after Lucas told him not to immediately swallow it, good thing to know,) and soon the music from distance died down along with the voices, but in return someone a few stories up in Lucas’ apartment had cracked open their window and turned up their radio, the late-night blues beginning to fill the streets in broken echoes.

“ You hear that?” Lucas nudged Pittoo, pointing at the window where the music came from. A sound of a harmonica and blues piano riff crackled from the degenerated speakers, and Lucas’ face seemed to light up at the song, “ Dance with me.”

He sat the half-empty bottle of Cognac they were chugging down on the ledge and looked at Pittoo eagerly. He really was drunk if he thought Pittoo was going to stand up and dance with him to a seventies blues song right there, right now.

But Pittoo was drunk too, and even though he was self aware of his intoxication and that he might regret what he was going to do, Lucas looked cute right then in the poor light of the streets, and he couldn’t say no to a dance with his boyfriend, so he obliged. His hands were shaking, Pittoo’s were a bit sweaty, and they stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, hands slipping around each other’s waists. Whether it was from hormones or the alcohol, Lucas didn’t know, but Pittoo’s face looked beautiful in the dull lights, with his dark skin and pretty freckles that almost looked like gold. His eyes were droopy and eager seemed to look at him so distantly, his hand fidgeting in his and the points of his shoes overlapping Lucas’ sneakers a bit.

Neither of them knew how to really dance, but the alcohol rushing throughout made every single thought and worry disappear while all at the same time come on tenfold, like a massive tidal wave pushing at them while the current pulls, and suddenly Lucas leaned in and rested his chin on Pittoo’s shoulder and there they began to slightly sway to the sound of the Billy Joel song that Lucas for some reason had a huge infatuation with. Pittoo relaxed against Lucas and rested his head against his, trying to ward off the slightly dizzying feeling crawling from his stomach, the floorboards creaking to their shifting weight; they’ve never been this close before, feeling each other’s heartbeats and hot cheeks against one another. It was all just hand-holding and sleeve-grabbing, never anything this close -- this personal.

And just as soon as the sharp harmonica seem to have begun, the song ended and the two were left swaying in silence, a car alarm going off in the distance along with a few concerning sounds they couldn’t differ between gunshots and fireworks. Lucas’ body suddenly felt heavy and his breathing seemed to get slower; he was tired. He had muttered something about liking the dance and incoherent nonsense, and his grip on Pittoo had eased up as they released from their embraced, but their hands still clasped together very loosely. Both were tired beyond belief and the mixture of alcohol and staying up late did not work well for them, so without really any thought to it, they crept their way into Lucas’ empty apartment ( for his parents were away -- which was usual -- and his brother had probably went to stay at some friend’s house,) and up to his rather small room, stashing the empty bottle of Cognac along the way among a cabinet full of pillow sheets in his bathroom where he stashed all his illegal belongings.

The room was dark, and small, and they banged their knees on the bedside and kicked over stacks of books and video games, Lucas mumbling about how they would have to probably bunk it together since -- well, there wasn’t really a clean spot on the floor to sleep on, and it would be rude to make him do that -- which he was fine with, nothing new. He began throwing stuff off the bed and mumbling more and more, with Pittoo spitting out answers to the questions he only half-heard as he watched Lucas through the darkness, for some reason caught up on how his cheeks curve at the tip of his mouth or the way his freckles crossed up to his temples in a pattern like stars.

Too caught up on Lucas’ features to realize the nonsensical questions he was answering to, and how Lucas suddenly turned to him and slipped his hands over his cheeks, his fingers lightly wrapping into Pittoo’s hair, and stared back through the darkness keenly. Something crossed his mind in those very few seconds, but the feeling of Lucas’ lips against his seemed to stop everything. It was only for a quick second before he jerked back, not releasing his hands from Pittoo’s face, looking for some sort of reaction out of him to see if he had crossed the line at all. On the outside he seemed blank, but surely on the inside he could feel all the blood rushing up to his head and igniting the points where Lucas’ fingers grazed his ears. Then, without thinking, he returned the action by pulling the boy back to him by the waist, kissing him just as lightly as he did.

It went on like that, a mess of drunken rhythms and lack of words, guesses in the darkness, shaky hands smoothing over one another. They were so inexperienced they couldn’t match up, going their own rushed paces, and had found themselves together on his bed, exhausted and grossly touchy, still trying to understand one another’s bodies. Pittoo laid there with the springs lightly pushing against his head, trying to keep his tired eyes open as Lucas moved his lips down to his neck, weighing himself onto the boy under him, pressing his hands against Pittoo’s sides and hips -- and then he crashed. All his weight eased onto Pittoo and the bed, and he tried to best to work out some form of apology for just ending something like this so suddenly. He had lined Pittoo’s neck with a few more subtle kisses, before he was finally rolled to the side and gathered up in his boyfriend’s arms.

The sun was just about rising, cascading light over the arched buildings and in through the window, where Pittoo was grabbing at what he assumed was a blanket and placed it over them both, blocking what light crawled up from the end of the bed to his face. Cars passed, doors slammed, and the world began waking up to the light while the two fell asleep together. They were finally getting the hang of this dating thing.


End file.
